


Moth to a Flame

by hugh_jassmann



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Other, hugh gets poetic, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugh_jassmann/pseuds/hugh_jassmann
Summary: King Dice is a charming man.





	Moth to a Flame

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been wanting to explore the thought of King Dice being a cruel and cunning master seductress.

You’d fallen for him. You’d fallen absolutely head over heels for him. The way he looked at you, spoke to you… surely he couldn’t be like this with everyone, you thought. From the way he complimented you, held your hand in his and placed a delicate kiss on the top of it, you grew to trust him, even with the short few hours you spent together. It seemed he had a magic, the ability to wrap anybody around his finger. Whether it was actual magic or just gentlemanly charm, you had no idea. 

You were a fool to think you had something. But how could you not, with the way he talked? The way he touched you, told you how beautiful you looked underneath him, how good he made you feel? You couldn’t believe or even begin to think about how it might be all a farce, in that moment. When he held you close and made you feel like Heaven. A little taste of Heaven, in Hell’s casino. You slumped against him, he rubbed your back as you cuddled close to him. He seemed content. You were content. Content with the fact that you think you’d just fallen in love. 

You kicked yourself after the fact. You never thought for one second that you might just be a fling, just a way for him to get his rocks off, tossed to the curb after he was done. He’d said as much himself the day after, though not in so many words. You tried to approach him,

“Get your hands off me, you harlot.”

Those words he used in bed, seemingly with no spite or ill intention, suddenly stung like acid. He had a way with making you believe his words. 

“But, I thought-” You tried. 

“That really isn’t my problem, is it.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t his problem. And he left you with that. 

You heard him using his same charming words on another unlucky soul. Complimenting them, kissing their hand, making them feel special. He seemed to have a magic about him, an irresistible pull, like a candle to a moth. But candles burn the moths.


End file.
